


Captaincy

by WhyMrSpook



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Uhura, Bones is a Good Friend, Caring Bones, EVERYONE LOVES EACH OTHER, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Kirk, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Spock/Nyota Uhura, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Spock, Proud Spock, Smut, Space Husbands, Tarsus IV, gays in space, minor relationship uhura/chapel, or smutty at least, so is Uhura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-05 06:17:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10299458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyMrSpook/pseuds/WhyMrSpook
Summary: “Does he still do that thing where he tries to eavesdrop on conversations by pretending to be asleep, even though we can see his vitals and know for a fact that he drools when he’s actually sleeping?” Bones asked, dryly.Jim cracked an eye open, outraged. “Do not.”The fallout after a bad encounter in space. Jim panics at the prospect of dying for his ship, again. Bones fixes him up, Spock builds him up and then business resumes as usual on the Enterprise.





	1. Professionalism

They were barely sure the ship had been released from the grip of the delightful intelligent life form who'd been looking for a new playmate in Jim, before Jim allowed his anger to explode out of him once again. His entire bridge crew were as stressed and tired as he was, but this needed addressing immediately.

“You do not GET to disobey my orders. That’s not how this works!” He announced to his bridge crew. He didn’t think he’d ever had cause to be so angry in his entire Captaincy. “This isn’t a democracy!” His head pounded, hard enough to make him feel dizzy and nauseous. He turned to Uhura, who had the unfortunate task of receiving the brunt of his anger. She'd questioned him, challenged him and delayed him giving up his life for the ship. She had no right. Jim's fists clenched at his sides. “I told you to send that message, Lieutenant! I have to write in my official report that _my_ communications officer disobeyed me.”

“It worked, _Captain_.” The only thing that betrayed Uhura’s anger was the hard stare she directed towards him. She wasn’t scared of maintaining eye contact; she glared him down where others would rather the ground swallow them whole. He’d done his fair share of disciplining his crew in the year he’d had command, but he’d never had reason to yell at his officers before. Certainly not Uhura.

“This time! And if it hadn’t? I made the call to speak to the creature. You had no right to intervene.”

He couldn’t look at Uhura anymore. Maybe that made him a terrible Captain, but she valued his life more than he did and it _hurt_. The rest of the Bridge were avoiding his angry gaze diligently; Chekov and Sulu with their hands in their laps like naughty schoolboys. Only Spock and Bones looked at him; both with worryingly similar schooled expressions. He didn’t doubt he’d get their opinions on his outburst sooner or later.

“If you’d sent that message- if you’d given your permission- you might be stuck down there on that planet right now.” Uhura replied hotly. “Captain.” She added, as if the title might somehow appease him. Like he gave a crap about that. The whole captain thing was just a technicality, anyway. He’d probably have done exactly the same thing if their roles had been reversed. That didn’t make it any easier to stomach.

“That was my decision and my mistake to make! You _not_ sending the transmission could have gotten the whole crew killed.” His breathing was ragged before he even realised he was in the midst of a panic attack. Fuck this- fucking dying to save the ship. Save the crew. Save the ship. Damnit, he wasn’t cut out for this job. He’d done enough suffering so others could live in peace. Frank. Tarsus. Khan. _Shit_.

He inhaled sharply, Khan’s face flashing in his mind. He hoped to god that the crew were still mistaking his reaction as anger, and not the debilitating fear of failure leeching the life out of his veins.

“Mr Spock, take the goddamn bridge.”

If Spock realised he was panicking, he didn’t say anything about it. He simply nodded tersely, “Yes, Captain.” But said nothing else. Jim got the impression his First Officer wanted to follow him, but he wouldn’t. Not until he could find a valid excuse to. Otherwise, he’d stay on the bridge as instructed until his shift ended. Besides, Bones followed him to the turbolift anyway- so Spock had no reason to worry that Jim was going to be alone. Regardless, Spock’s eyes locked with his and remained so until the lift doors closed and the bridge left his view.

Only then did he sag against the wall, barrelling his head into his hands to stop it all- the tears, the breathlessness- any visible indicators that he was weak- shit, _shit_!

“Sickbay.” He heard Bones announce, and the Doctor’s hand on the side of his head was like a flashback to every other injury he’d ever had. Bones, holding his head and telling him he was going to be okay. He always was. Bones was there. “You’re alright, kid. That wasn’t pleasant, but you did it. You’re alright.”

“Pike was right- he was right-“

“Don’t you dare, Jimmy. That’s not true. You know it isn’t. He knew it wasn’t. You’re a good Captain. Just chalk this one down to experience.” The lift doors opened and on unsteady legs, he let Bones guide him down the corridor. He didn’t want to be in medbay - he couldn’t be seen as weak, now more than ever - but he couldn’t fight Bones either. Hell, he didn’t _want_ to be away from Bones. He just wished he’d asked Spock to come too.

“She should have sent that message, Bones.”

“She knows that.” Bones said quietly, toning down the bright lights of the room and helping Jim onto the bed there. “She knows. Chapel- get me something to help the Captain sleep, would you?” Bones hands pressed him down into the bed, and he only struggled momentarily. He didn’t think he could make it back to his quarters at this point anyway. “Focus on breathing, Jimmy.”

“Easy - for you - to say.” Bones didn’t know what it was like to lose the ability to breathe, to sit helpless and alone without the energy – the capacity – to inhale. To feel burning through his veins and panic in his cells and not be able to do anything about it.

“If you’re well enough to be sarcastic-” Bones grumbled, but Chapel was suddenly there again, looking down at Jim through pitiful eyes. She clearly didn’t know he’d just publicly yelled at her girlfriend, or she’d be the one jabbing him in the neck with a hypo instead of Bones.

Relief was swift. A calmness swept over him, followed abruptly by darkness.

* * *

“Spock, he’s fine.” Bones sounded irritated, but with a forced gentility that he only ever utilised for Spock. “He was tired, he was triggered, he got himself worked up.” A beat passed. “Unless there’s something you think I should know.” Jim strained to think if there was anything he was currently keeping from his best friend that Spock knew, but his brain was hazy and it wasn’t cooperating as quickly as he wanted it to.

“No, Doctor. Aside from a single nightmare last week, I believe his mental health has otherwise been steady.” Ah shit, the nightmare. Jim tried not to react visibly, keeping his eyes gently closed and his breathing steady. That nightmare had been a fucking surprise to him as much as Spock. Of all things to suddenly disturb his sleep, an argument he’d had with his mother years before was the last thing he could have anticipated. “His sleeping is still irregular, but his food consumption has been steadier.”

“Does he still do that thing where he tries to eavesdrop on conversations by pretending to be asleep, even though we can see his vitals and know for a fact that he drools when he’s actually sleeping?” Bones asked, dryly.

Jim cracked an eye open, outraged. “Do not.” And even if he did, which he definitely didn’t, he’d lived with Bones for all his time at the Academy. He knew of a dozen worse things that Bones did. Like turn on every goddamn light in the vicinity. That habit hadn’t left him, apparently, because Jim’s little room was lit to every corner with a harsh, clinical white light that made him feel sick in itself. It was almost like they’d _wanted_ to wake him up.

“Back me up, Spock.” Bones said simply, glancing to the science officer casually.

“I believe the phrase goes, he ‘sleeps like a baby’.”

Jim glared, folding his arms. “ _Spock_ , whose side are you on? Agreeing with _Bones_ , that’s like betraying everything you stand for.” Though he found Bones and Spock agreed more and more when he was the subject in question, and he didn’t know how to deal with that. His best friend and boyfriend teaming up. Insane. He’d never had more than one person at a time caring about him his entire life.

“No, no - You can trust me when I say I definitely don’t agree that you sleep like a baby.” Bones grumbled good-naturedly. “I think sentiment is clouding Spock’s judgement.”

Spock arched an eyebrow, defiantly, and Jim couldn’t help but laugh- in spite of his sudden embarrassment at the idea of Spock watching him sleep, in all his flawed human ways. He’d never seen Spock drool. Vulcans were probably evolved not to so they retained maximum hydration levels or something.

“Anyway, you’re free to go. Get out of my sickbay, go on. And Jim, I want you to start tracking sleep again-”

“Aw, Bones - that’s not-”

“Just for a little while.” Bones interrupted firmly. “We’ve been through this before, Jim. And don’t just make Spock do it for you, either. I want you to actually think about looking after yourself for a change.”

A moment passed, in which Jim sulked and tried to come up with a counter argument. He couldn’t think of one, and Bones wasn’t inclined to give him an option for defence anyway.

“Why are you still here? Go on! I’m a doctor, you know, I do have other patients.”

“Aye, Sir!” He mock saluted, sliding off the bed and following Spock out into the corridor, the doors sliding closed behind them just in time for Jim to hear a particularly favoured curse of Leonard’s cut off, right before the good part.

“Jesus Christ, I only went there for a nap.” He said, shaking his head in derision. The corridor was unbearably quiet, and left him with Spock in a way he didn’t really know what to do with. He always got this awkward when things in their lives were screwing up, and yesterday’s alien encounter had been one hell of a screw up. Even if none of it had technically been their fault.

“Jim, we both know that is not true, and your attempts at humour at this time are unwarranted.”

“Alright, alright. Can we just get to my quarters before we talk then?”

“Indeed.”

Jim huffed out some annoyed air and walked faster. He was in no rush to have difficult conversations with Spock, about work or emotions or anything, really. But he was a little bit pissed off, and he assumed Spock would fall back slightly as he once would have. Jim was the Captain of the damn ship, after all. Instead, Spock just utilised those infuriatingly long legs and strode further, keeping up with ease. Jim huffed again. When his yeoman tried to catch up with them to get Jim to sign some documents, he almost considered leaving with her to do some work, until- -

“Captain Kirk is not on duty until this afternoon, Yeoman.” Spock said curtly, interceding before Jim could so much as pick up the pen to sign with. “You will pay closer attention to the duty updates in the future.”

“Yes, Sir.” Her eyes flicked from Spock to Jim, and he tried to convey a look that said ‘ _I’ve got you covered, don’t worry’_. He wasn’t sure it worked as well as it would have done to someone he knew a little better, but she seemed to take comfort from his nod before departing, rapidly.

“Spock, what the hell?! You don’t need to discipline my crew when I’m right here. I’m perfectly able to sign a form, and a three minute delay to getting to my quarters is nothing!”

“You were relieved from duties this morning on medical grounds. As your First Officer, it is my duty to ensure that the ship runs efficiently while you take this time to recover. To allow you to intervene in ship affairs at this time would be wrong.” Oh shit, Spock was pissed. Fucking, damn it. If Spock was really annoyed about signing some stupid forms, that actually translated to the fact that Spock was worried. His poor Vulcan. He had that endearing stubborn look on his face, anyway, that meant he was entirely convinced he took the right course of actions.

Jim couldn’t bring himself to be irritated any longer; very little was was worth upsetting Spock over. “I know. I’m sorry.” He punched in the code for his rooms, _their_ rooms, and grinned at the feeling of ‘home’ it provided him. The temperature was marked up to Vulcan levels because, after a dozen nights of Spock wearing four thousand layers to bed, he’d decided he’d rather sleep without a blanket. Half-naked Spock was a lot more fun to cuddle. His room was clean - another sign of Spock's presence - and smelled vaguely of incense that made Jim want to curl up and sleep.

He stripped out of the previous day's clothes the moment the door slid shut and Spock didn’t bat an eyelid; far too used to Jim’s little, terrible habits. There was nothing sexual about it anyway; his clothes were just gross and old, and the room was hot. He collapsed into the sofa, throwing bare legs up and reclining.

“Okay. Let’s do this. Then I want to shower and some lunch before I head to the bridge.”

“I concur.” Spock agreed, and like Jim, he didn’t sound irritated anymore. Only concerned. He sat opposite Jim on the chair, looking at him over the unfinished remnants of their last chess game. They’d abandoned it the night before last to make out, and there hadn’t been a chance to finish it… what with the crazy entitled space brat that accosted the ship.

“Okay. Good.” Jim sat up a little straighter. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at Uhura; I don’t actually have a death wish, you know. I do…” He tried to search for appropriate word, but despite Spock’s quiet, reserved form, he felt under an immense amount of pressure. “I appreciate the trouble you all go to for me, and I know you value my life. I don’t mean to act like I’d willingly throw it away again. But I’m the Captain. Yesterday… I can’t say I’d do it differently, if I could do it again.” He admitted, shrugging awkwardly.

Spock simply looked at him.

“But I overreacted afterwards, I know. I panicked. I wouldn’t have left the bridge alone, you know- if Bones hadn’t been there, I _would_ have called on you.” He hoped his phrasing was earnest enough for Spock to believe him, but he wasn’t sure he even believed himself. If Bones hadn’t been there, he might just have legged it to the nearest available access pipe and freaked out until he passed out.

“Jim, you are justifying your actions unnecessarily. Nothing you have done has surprised me or, indeed, upset me. Yesterday you acted as a Captain should in all matters.” Jim tried, and failed, to wallow the little sound of surprise that wanted to escape him. “You reminded me of Captain Pike. I believe he would have been proud of you. As I am.”

“Spock…” No. Absolutely not. He’d done enough crying yesterday. “Really?”

Spock nodded, his eyes softened considerably. “Yes, Jim. You are young and in a position of power that arose, and arguably was sustained, out of outstanding circumstances. Your reaction to the position Nyota put you in yesterday was logical and appropriate.”

“You mean I was due a breakdown.”

“Essentially. Doctor McCoy informed me you handled it superbly. You did not shut down, you allowed him to touch you, you made it to sickbay. You are stronger than you have been led to believe, Jim.”

“Okay. I’m gonna have to stop you there. Jesus, Spock. I thought I’d struggle to get _you_ to talk about your emotions.” He hadn’t anticipated Spock being so upfront about singing his damn praises. He got the occasional ‘proud of you, kid’ from Bones, and that was always perfectly timed. Aside from that, Bones had long since given up on trying to get Jim to talk. Sober, anyway. Jim wasn’t used to this. Not used to trusting someone enough to admit all his fears and weaknesses, and not used to having them methodically proven wrong one by one.

“Vulcan partners are considerably more mentally attuned than even we are, Jim. Those who share bonds feel and share as though second nature.” That was a whole other can of worms that Jim couldn’t think about yet. To talk to Spock was one thing, to share thoughts, another. To meld, that was nice sometimes. Hell, better than nice. But to form a link with Spock’s mind- to unload all his emotional baggage onto Spock... oh boy, no. Spock seemed to recognise that he wasn’t ready for that conversation at least, and continued promptly. “In any case, there is nothing else to say. You are a strong, natural leader.”

Jim prized his wringing hands apart and ran them down his thighs. “Thank you, Spock. I guess there’s not much I can say against that considering Vulcans don’t lie.” He laughed nervously. “Is… is Uhura mad at me?”

“Not at all. She understands the position she put you in and expressed she was more than accepting of disciplinary action.” Spock looked somewhat amused. “Like yourself, she stated she would change none of her actions should she be allowed to repeat the day again.”

Jim snorted. “That doesn’t surprise me.” A beat passed. “What about Christine?”

“Nurse Chapel expressed… concern over the argument with Nyota.” If it wasn’t angry Uhura, it was Uhura’s angry girlfriend. _Great_. “Though she conceded to Doctor McCoy that the state in which you arrived at sickbay probably resolved you of any potential blame.”

“Hm. Well, I don’t care if it’s pity, as long as she isn’t going to hurt me the next time I head to sickbay.” He stood and approached Spock, bending awkwardly to kiss him. “Thank you, Spock. Really. You’re the best boyfriend and first officer and science officer in all of Starfleet.”

“High praise indeed.” Spock said dryly, and Jim’s laughter felt like it added a good decade back onto his lifespan. “Shower, Jim. I will acquire our lunch.”

“Sounds great.”

* * *

He stepped onto the bridge an hour later feeling like yesterday was a month behind him. He wouldn’t feel the same when he had to face the reports and paperwork later, but he had the advantage of a wonderful First Officer who would no doubt go above and beyond his actual duties to ensure Jim didn’t get too overwhelmed.

“Keptin on the bridge.” Chekov said, in a slightly more subdued manner than he might otherwise have done, his tone professional and calm. The back of his neck and ears were even blushing though, so Jim wasn’t too worried.

“Afternoon everyone. New orders have come in. Plot a course for Starbase Eleven. And ahead, warp factor one.”

His directions were relayed back to him softly, and then a silence fell on the bridge once more. It wasn’t awkward, per se, but it wasn’t comfortable. Just the recognition that maybe Jim was still mad, or too close to the incident still to forgive an easy-going bridge crew. Either way, the staff who hadn’t even been there for his little outburst seemed to have caught on too.

He sat for a while, going through his PADD and checking their new orders again. He fidgeted a bit and tried to bait his Yeoman into conversation, but she didn’t seem very interested. Finally, he dragged himself to the communications station and tapped Uhura’s shoulder nervously.

She turned to face him, expression schooled, but not necessarily foreboding. Spock had claimed she wasn’t angry at him, but he didn’t want to take any risks.

“Hi. So, about yesterday… I’m sorry.” Her eyes softened, so he continued. “I would have done the same, and we all know it. I’m really glad I’m not dead or anything.” Not that he doubted his crew wouldn’t have done anything on earth to retrieve him, had he been trapped on the planet.

“Yeah, me too.” She finally smiled, mischievously. “Captain.”

“Good.” He patted her shoulder. “Any messages? Anything interesting happening whatsoever?”

“I swear to god you idiot man, go and sit down in your chair and sit still for one shift.” Uhura instructed firmly, her exasperation loud and obvious. Jim couldn’t help but snigger, until she span around in her chair and he held his hands up in defeat.

“Alright, alright. I’m going. A nice, danger free journey to the Starbase, coming up.” He flashed her his most charming grin, though it went wasted on her, and sat back down.

* * *

“Captain, the first shore leave party has left the ship.” Spock informed him, joining him on his way to the medbay to hand Bones his marching orders. If his good doctor didn’t take shore leave soon, there’d be hell to pay. “I trust your meeting with the Admiral went smoothly?”

“There were no kidnappings or injuries, so I’d say so.” Jim replied, shrugging. He didn’t want to think about the day he ended up in Admiralty- he could barely bring himself to meet with them now, let alone become one of them. The bureaucracy of it all. “How’re repairs?”

“Ahead of schedule. I believe Mr Scott should be moved to an earlier party so that his staff might work alone for some time.”

“Agreed. God knows, Scotty could do with a break too. Put him with Bones, they’ll have each other to complain to then.”

Spock looked baffled at the notion of a mutual desire to be miserable, but he didn’t say anything, simply nodded and tapped away at his PADD as they walked. “Anything else, Captain?”

“No, Mr Spock. You’re officially off-duty.” He took Spock’s fallen hand from his side and interlocked their fingers in a manner he’d most recently utilised whilst riding his lover. “How do you intend to spend your weekend?”

If possible, if at all he wasn’t going crazy, Jim would have said Spock looked pained. He grinned, wickedly until Spock reclaimed his own hand and moved them behind his back. “Most immediately, Captain, I believe in meditation.”

“Good plan. See you in a bit.” He winked, leaving Spock at the lift and continuing on his way to sickbay. His plans for Spock would have to wait until he’d faced his best friend and signed off on the rest of the shore leave parties. Besides, Spock really did need to meditate. Jim doubted he had done the night before, probably standing vigil by Jim’s bed all night.

Bones knew why he was there the moment he entered sickbay and moved to the other side of the bed, using it as a barrier between them. “Jim, no. I’m busy- I have too much work on here.”

Jim looked up and down the deserted ward. “Incredible how all my crew are suddenly in top health when we get shore leave.” He snorted. “Yeah, you’re sure packed Bones. Come on, I’ve put Scotty with you. You only have to go down for a few hours. Just go have a few drinks, meet some pretty girls, get off ship for a while.”

“I don’t see you getting off ship!”

“I’ve been off-ship all morning. As Captain, it’s my prerogative. Now, you can either go peacefully, or I can get the Admiral to summon you.”

Bones’ face screwed up, irritated, and then he sighed heavily. “Two hours. Then I’m back here.”

“Sure, Bones. See you later.”

“No you won’t.” Bones said coolly. “Don’t think I don’t know your plans, Jimmy Boy. You’re not wasting your shore leave on an old country doctor like me. You’ll be at Spock’s side, like you belong there.”

Jim grinned, turning back to Bones briefly. “Well, I do.”

* * *

Spock seemed to know it was Jim before he’d even stepped into his quarters. His love wasn’t meditating, like he’d expected, and lost to the world, but rather sat at the desk and working. “You are earlier than expected. Did Doctor McCoy not put up the expected resistance?”

“Not too bad, no.” Jim sauntered to the desk, sitting in front of the screen and blocking Spock’s view. They were both off duty now, technically, and he could think of a dozen things he’d rather Spock do than look at reports. Reports could wait until Jim was sexed out and sleeping. “I may have used blackmail, but no worse than he’s ever done to get _me_ to take time off.”

Spock seemed to both recognise Jim’s intentions and reciprocate, sitting forwards and wrapping his arms around Jim easily. “Is that so.”

“Hm. But that was years ago. I’ve learned to take advantage of my time off, now.”

“I believe, Captain, the advantage is mine.” Spock said, starting to pull Jim’s boots off. Damn boots. If he hadn’t been grateful for them so many times off-ship, he’d seriously petition for new footwear in the uniform. They just weren’t practical for every day wear. Still, there was something undeniably hot about Spock holding his legs, slowly tugging at the leather; the gentle touch of the pads of his fingers, dragging down his socks.

“You always say that,” Jim countered, ignoring the hitch in his voice as his other foot became free and Spock then parted Jim’s legs with ease. “And I always surprise you.” Granted, that was normally chess, and sex with Spock was as far from chess as anything.

Spock looked vaguely amused, but his pretty eyes were dark in a way Jim couldn’t really see any more without getting a massive hard-on. Frankly, he didn’t need any help there at this point. “I’m counting on it, Jim.” Spock said, simply, before undoing the fastenings on Jim’s trousers. He propped himself up, his wrists taking his weight momentarily as Spock tugged his trousers down. They were discarded on the floor beneath the desk and suddenly Jim realised he was half-naked and hard, sat at the place he and Spock worked every single day. The desk was cool under him, and Spock was dressed in full uniform, annoyingly. He didn’t even bother to remove Jim’s command gold shirt. He just lowered his head to Jim’s lap and began to explore with his tongue, lazily and – _goddamnit_ – messily too. It was obscene. So damn good. His hand carded through Spock’s perfect hair, his other hand reaching down, trying to tug up Spock’s shirt so he could touch the hot, soft skin on his back.

Apparently, Spock wasn’t in the mood for reciprocation just yet and, if possible, his efforts began in earnest to distract Jim entirely. Spock’s mouth was probably the hottest part about him. Literally. His mouth enveloped Jim and sucked, swallowing him down further than he probably needed to prove he didn’t have a pesky gag reflex. Either way, Jim could do little but gasp in a shuddering breath and try not to crush Spock’s head with his tensed hands.

“Fuck-fuck-Spock.” Spock’s hands pulled him closer, holding his backside firmly and ignoring his feeble-protests. This was undeniably quicker than he’d planned for the weekend, but he didn’t mind. Not like this. Fuck- he tugged Spock’s hair as lightly as he could manage to, warning him, to no avail, because Spock’s throat rumbled lightly in a groan, and he pressed his tongue up and willed Jim to come.

Jim thanked any gods or false gods in the whole universe for the desk he remained half-sat on, keeping him up. Waves washed over him and the whole ship could have gone to red alert, and there wasn’t a thing he would have done about it. He felt like crumpling, like folding in two, in the best possible way. Spock was fucking everything and without a doubt the best lover he’d ever had, Christ - -

“Spock…”

Spock released him, nuzzling into the crux of his right thigh momentarily, kissing there, before sitting up straighter and looking up at Jim. Pink lips, slightly swollen, and a green flush travelling beneath his collar that Jim wouldn’t rest until he’d exposed.

“Now fuck me.” He saw the peaceful, almost smug look in Spock’s eyes light up slightly. “See. I said I’d surprise you.”


	2. Dramatics

Spock’s hands were Jim’s favourite things of the day. He’d been tempted to say his mouth after that last display, but then strong hands had curved under his thighs and hoisted him to the bed with ease. Perhaps it was primal, but that single display of strength had Jim breathless again, hardening and trying, with more success this time, to strip Spock’s clothes. His perfect, strong hands didn’t stop though, sweeping across Jim’s skin and leaving fire in their wake. Perhaps the most erotic thing about those beautiful, elegant, infinitely skilled hands was the fact that Jim knew precisely what his body did to those hands. How to touch Jim was one of the most intimate acts Spock could do, emotionally. To have that, to share his pleasure and adoration, Jim couldn’t stop himself groaning deeply again. He caught Spock’s hand before it reached his groin, motioning for him to finally hurry out of his uniform. When they were both stripped entirely, Jim inhaled slowly. He had to force himself to steady and appreciate and love as deeply as he ever had or could, as he did every night with Spock. He pressed his fingers to Spock’s own in a Vulcan kiss, and smiled wickedly at the look on his face.

Spock’s eyes were clouded with lust, his hands were almost unsteady, but his actions were undertaken with superb confidence and precision. He reached for the lube and coated his fingers, and Jim continued to grin, incomprehensibly happy. Happy, always, with Spock. The fact that Spock’s perfect hands and sensitive fingers were teasing at his hole was just one of the many incredible perks that came with loving Spock. With Spock loving him, too. The grin slipped off his face slowly as a single digit entered him swiftly, and he clutched at Spock’s back. He could only imagine what it felt like for Spock. How those sensitive, long fingers must have sent pleasure coursing through his body from the heat and the feeling of being inside Jim. The though alone was enough to make Jim want to beg for more- for him as much as for Spock. Spock wasn’t in the mood to tease though, thankfully, and took what he wanted from Jim at a pace that made Jim sure he could feel the flow of blood rushing to his cock.

“Spock… I- now, please-!”

A beat passed, another little touch to his prostate that had him keening, and then the fingers slipped out and were quickly replaced by Spock, finally, filling him and stretching him a little further and overtaking any ability to speak he had left. His legs wrapped around Spock, pulling him tighter and holding him close for a moment. For a moment, Jim might have cried, because Spock loved him and they were so fucking good together, everything about them. Then, Spock began to move and sheer ecstasy won out instead.

He started gripping the sheets, winding his fingers into the fabric, when he felt his orgasm approaching. Spock knew, of course. Spock always knew just what Jim needed in sex, and his rhythm altered fractionally, so that Spock began to whisper Jim’s name, repeating it over and over, until Jim thought he might be in heaven. Spock looked so pretty and dishevelled, and Jim would give himself to Spock entirely. In all ways, also, one day. But this was enough for now. He reached a hand to his cock and bid his orgasm on as if an afterthought, when Spock’s eyes had closed and he tipped over the edge himself.

Minutes had probably passed before Jim bothered to open his eyes. A heavy arm draped over his stomach, despite the mess accumulating there, and Spock looked very content. Jim watched him for a moment, heart pounding still.

“I love you a lot you know, Spock.”

Spock blinked at him. “I had surmised as much, though you had not yet spoken the words.” That was true, but Jim had tried to show Spock in a thousand ways. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been sure. He’d known he’d loved him since he’d shown up in Engineering, as Jim lay dying, cut off from the one person he wanted more than life itself. “As you are most beloved to me also, Jim.”

Jim pressed a kiss to Spock’s mussed up hair. “I don’t ever want to be apart from you again. I’m not saying I’m ready to bond, if you even are yourself, because there are things we need to talk about first. Things I need to work through myself before I dump them all on you. But I do want you, Spock. For as long as you’ll have me.”

“Then till death do us part, Jim.” Spock did his almost smile, but it was tired and half hidden in Jim’s side. He was touching Jim all over; he had to know that Jim was sincere. That he truly did want to bond, one day. But for now, they were still so new. “If we do not shower now, I imagine we will regret it. Go, ashayam. I will change the bedding.”

“Yes, Spock.” He squeezed Spock one last time and then forced himself up. They still had the rest of the day to themselves and all of the night. Sleep could most certainly wait- and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast either. If Spock or Bones found out that particular snippet of information, they’d skin him alive. “Feel free to join me.”

“That was my intention, ashayam.” 

“Good.” Jim grinned. “I love you.”

Spock looked amused. “I love you too, Jim. Shower.”

* * *

“OUCH- Mother-fucking-Jesus- HELP!” Jim clamped his teeth down on his lower lip to stop himself from swearing repeatedly as he hobbled onto the bridge, arms flailing to try and maintain a balance that eluded him at the best of times. His struggle didn’t last long, as his crew surrounded him instantly, helping him upright – Sulu and Chekov taking an arm each. It wasn’t the falling that was the issue, however, it was the bloody agony in his foot.

“Call McCoy-“ Jim struggled to stand up straight, shaking his head rapidly. “Captain?” He chose to focus on Spock’s voice beyond that of the rabble of his bridge crew. Spock sounded worried, after all, and he seemed to have pushed the others out of the way to get to Jim.

“Don’t call McCoy! I’m fine!” He manged to say, hissing through gritted teeth.

“You are clearly not fine, Captain. You are in pain.” Spock was attempting to carry him to his chair, but Jim resisted his superior strength, pain dissipating rapidly and turning to embarrassment instead. Not that it wasn’t heart-wrenchingly adorable that Spock was so worried about him.

“No, I really am fine, Spock. Sorry everyone.” He addressed the bridge who were only just starting to return to their stations. “Just a little test.” He lied, grinning uneasily until they’d all glared at him and turned away. Then he lowered his voice to Spock, sheepish and apologetic. “I stood on my toe and stubbed it at the same time, and I don’t even know _how_ I did it but it hurt like hell.”

For a moment, Spock’s expression was blank. Jim thought he might have broken his Vulcan. Then, he shook his head in complete derision.

“Three days ago you made contact with a new life form, sustaining optimum functions for 3.45 hours, with broken and heavily bruised ribs. Today, you cause a scene for an incident most would walk off in a moment.”

Jim folded his arms, taking his seat and gasping in mock horror. “Haven’t you ever stubbed your toe before, Spock? I’d like to see any human walk that off without crying a bit. Still hurts now.” He mused, flexing his toes inside his boot and feeling somewhat justified from the residual pain there. Maybe he had a flair for the dramatics, but sometimes little injuries hurt miles more than the big ones.

Spock looked torn between worrying about Jim still, and stalking off back to his station to quietly think over what an appalling life decision he’d made in choosing Jim to love. The decision was taken away from him when the lift doors opened and Bones stepped onto the bridge, looking ready to march in to battle- as was so often the case when dealing with an injured Jim.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, who _actually_ called sickbay!?” He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. He turned back to his best friend, who was surveying the bridge from by the lift, suspiciously. “False alarm, Bones, sorry.”

“False alarm? There are no false alarms where you’re involved, Captain.” Bones snapped in reply. “What happened?”

“What happened is I got a twinge in my foot and my entire _highly trained and professional_ bridge crew lost their heads.” He snorted, but the mixture of irritation and embarrassment that guided his words was nulled almost instantly by the look on Spock’s face. Not anger or hurt, but dissatisfaction. Jim forced himself to look back at Bones. “Honestly, I’m fine. I’m sorry for the interruption. Go back to terrorising actual patients.”

“You come see me about that twinge.” Bones said pointedly, but to Jim’s relief he didn’t press anything else and simply turned and left.

“Okay everyone, let’s try and make up for this insanity with a nice, pleasant journey onwards?” Jim began to dish out orders, taking on his Captainly voice and persona. Frankly, it wasn’t too different from any other persona he’d adopted since he’d learned what an incredible defence mechanism blind arrogance could be. But Spock could see through that, just as Jim could read Spock better than most. He knew something was still wrong. Spock had stopped staring at him coolly, but his entire body language had become reserved again, too tense and withdrawn. That was fine, of course. If Spock wanted to be mad at him for nothing, let him. Jim had Captaining to do.

* * *

“Spock’s mad at me.”

It was a testament to the amount of bullshit that Bones had to put up with from Jim over the years, Jim thought, that his best friend didn’t even pretend to care about this particular grievance. He just sighed heavily, without looking up from his PADD.

“I _think_ it’s because I made fun of the crew for calling you when I hurt my toe.” Jim said, desperation in his tone as he lounged on the bed.

“Toe?” Bones looked up then, eyes sharp. “You told me it was your foot.” There was suspicion in his tone that could either have been towards the idea that Jim had lied then, or that Jim was lying now. Either way, Bones didn’t seem to ever trust Jim when it came to medical matters anymore. What in their academy days would have been forgotten after a simple ‘I’m fine’ from Jim, now warranted a full scan and hypo-spray.

“Of course I did. You think I’m going to admit to the whole bridge that I flailed around like a child because I stubbed my toe? Nah, a twinge in my foot is miles more impressive.”

Jim didn’t think for a second that the glare he received from Bones was justified, but his friend dropped his PADD nonetheless, his face red with anger almost instantly. Jim was proud to say he’d only ever seen himself accomplish such a feat; Bones was an impatient man by nature, but no-one else could get to him like Jim could. It was a symbol of their long-lasting friendship, in a way.

“If all you did was stub your damn toe, why the hell are you clogging up my medical bay you little git!?”

“ _Because_ Spock is mad at me.” He whined. “God Bones, would it kill you to listen to me for once?”

The glare he received then was almost certainly justified. Jim sighed heavily and rolled onto his side. Bones hadn’t immediately kicked him out of the ward, so he was probably consenting to at least listening to the rest of Jim’s complaint. As much as Bones liked to complain about having to deal with Jim's various romantic entanglements over the years, he'd never once abandoned Jim when he was needed; from his terrible break-up with Gary to escaping clingy one-night-stands.

“He says he’s fine, but I know he isn’t. At first I thought it was because I made such a fuss over my toe. But he doesn’t normally get a stick up his arse for little things like that, he normally just tells me I’m an illogical human and moves on with his life. So then I thought maybe it was because I insinuated that he overreacted and acted emotionally- but I didn’t! I said the whole bridge crew. It was barely even an incident, anyway. I’d call it more of a little debacle. I don’t see why he’s being so closed off from me all of a sudden.”

“Have you considered the fact that he’s an emotionally repressed Vulcan?” Bones asked dryly. “Or the poor soul is embarrassed that he didn’t understand the fact that you were being a little cry baby and got genuinely worried about you?”

“No. If it were that, he’d have just told me.” Bones didn’t know Spock like Jim did. They’d spent more time together recently, especially in a casual setting. Jim didn’t know for certain, but he thought both men had spent more time together when Jim had been, well, dead, than either of them were happy to admit. Even so, Bones didn’t always understand Spock. If he were embarrassed, Spock would have confessed and Jim would have found it achingly adorable.

“Look, kid, I don’t know what you want me to say. You chose to fall for the statue who once tried to kill you. You work out what’s bugging him. Or go ask Uhura. She’ll know, surely?”

“No way. It’s her and Chapel’s anniversary. I’m not incurring their wrath by interrupting their night off.” He grimaced, even at the very idea. Besides, not that he liked to admit it, but the idea of going to Spock’s ex for advice made his insides itch. It was irrational – even illogical – but it was true.

“Then you know what I’m going to say, don’t you Jim?”

“I should try and get in touch with other Spock, you’re right.” Jim nodded wisely for a moment. He decided his assumption was probably wrong when Bones cut off his pensive state with an array of language so colourful he thought there was some words in there he'd never even heard put together before. Jim had genuinely missed that since no longer living with his friend. He didn’t, however, miss being manhandled to wherever the good doctor wanted him to be. In this case, the exit.

“Go back to Spock and actually talk to _him_ , you pissy little infant, or I’ll keep you here for your quarterly physical.” The doors opened up to the corridor, and despite Bones, Jim hovered. For the life of him, he couldn’t say what was worse - the torment of Bones with infinite power, or the prospect of a tense, awkward conversation with Spock. He groaned and stepped out onto the corridor, glaring at the gleeful look in Bones’ eyes.

“Atta boy, Jimmy. Go kiss and make up.”

“If he kicks me out of _my_ quarters, I’m taking yours.” Jim replied blandly before striding off, becoming Captain Kirk once again. At least while there were young officers and ensigns around who demanded he be that invincible, death-defying hero. He continued to try and rack his brain, hiding his need to frown beneath layers of superficial charm. Spock was mad at him. But he was insisting he was fine. They hadn’t argued enough for Jim to be able to remotely understand what that meant. Maybe this would really teach him something about his boyfriend. He hoped so, anyway.

* * *

 

He found Spock not in Jim’s quarters, but his own, working at his computer quietly. His fingers fell still and he turned to look to the door, his expression far from blank, but completely indecipherable nonetheless.

“Hey. I thought we could have some supper together. If you’re busy I’ll just head to the mess, I guess, but I haven’t really seen you since after shore leave and - - “

“I would like that, Jim.”

Jim blinked. “Oh. Good. Great.” It occurred to Jim, then, that maybe he was cheating by bringing food into it. Ever since Spock had learned about Tarsus and Jim’s past issues, thanks to Bones, he’d taken an interest in that aspect of Jim’s health as well. No more or less than any other aspect, but an interest still. He hadn’t meant to use food as a bait for Spock, but if that was Spock’s motivation then at least he wasn’t too mad at Jim. At least he still cared. And Jim knew, logically, that particular fear was unlikely to come true. Not with Spock and not with Bones – as he’d been told many times. But his childhood had left him with abandonment issues like he couldn’t believe sometimes.

“Sit, Jim.” He realised Spock had stood and his eyes flicked from the blank spot on the wall he’d been staring at to his lover, close to him and reaching out as if to steady him. And damn, if Jim wasn’t shaking like a scared child. _No - fuck-_ he was going to eat supper with his boyfriend, who loved him, who wouldn't leave him. There was nothing to be scared of.

“Sorry. My mind drifted.”

“You did not sleep well last night.” Spock said slowly, as if that explained his reaction. He was right, of course. Spock hadn’t either- which was precisely why Jim had struggled. In the end, Spock had left their bed to meditate and then worked. Jim had just tossed and turned for a while, trying to decipher Spock’s reaction. “This was my fault.” Spock added, guiding Jim into the chair at the table and sitting opposite him.

“What?”

“I allowed my dissatisfaction at your actions yesterday to affect both of us unnecessarily.”

“Spock…” Jim stopped himself. He’d been about to protest, for some reason, but there was nothing false in Spock’s words. He thought very carefully about his next choice of words. “Do you feel ready to tell me what it was I did?” If not, Jim might as well have just gone straight back to McCoy- because at least Bones would knock him out with some sedative and let him sleep the discomfort away.

“Yes, Jim.” Spock said simply. “Upon Doctor McCoy’s arrival at the bridge yesterday, you lied to him and underestimated the extent of your pain.” He held a hand up to stop Jim from interrupting. “I am aware that your injury was insignificant in relative terms, but the idea that you continue to lie so easily in regards to your health is – was – startling to me.”

“Oh.” Jim stared. “Well, shit, Spock. I went over every single word in that whole conversation - I thought out every possible reason you might be mad at me. Lying to Bones didn’t even register as a possibility.” He was felt shaken, still, even sat down now. Perhaps that exactly proved Spock’s point. His own health didn’t even register as a possible cause for alarm in Spock. That was selfish of him and he knew it; because they'd gone through so much when he was dead. He swallowed down self-loathing.

“Spock, I promise I wouldn’t lie about the big stuff. Anxiety or sleep or food – you’d probably be the first to know considering we pretty much live together. But I _would_ tell Bones.”

“You do not place nearly enough value on your life, Jim. I would not…" Spock, bizarrely, took a breath and started again. "I wish for you to see yourself as others do, and not as you were told to by your step-father.”

Now it was Jim's turn to breathe. He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes. It was that or cry, and he had to be strong for this one. There was nothing scary about this situation. Nothing daunting. It was just him and Spock; one conversation in a whole lifetime of conversations they’d get to share. This was just the beginning. The first step. Spock cared so much, fought so hard to be with Jim when he seemed to struggle so with his emotions. Oh, Jim knew he loved Spock. Knew it so deeply it seemed to be the glue that held his sorry body together. But romantic love and relationships were not synonymous. It was Jim's duty to take the next step; to finally place some trust in their relationship.

“I’ve been doing counselling.” He admitted, so softly he thought a human might not have heard. But Spock did. Spock did, and his eyes widened, and love shone through them so brightly that Jim had to close his eyes again. “I want something more permanent than making it to the next adrenaline rush, Spock, and I want it with you. I wanted to get my head in order for me, finally. Then, if you still wanted… to bond with me.”

“I will always want you, ashayam.” Spock was just as quiet, just as intense. “You fascinate me, Jim. I am quite besotted with you.” Then, lips pressed against his, chaste and meaningful. He imagined they might kiss like that on their wedding day, one day, and Spock’s ears would darken in embarrassment at the PDA, but he’d still smile at Jim anyway. That secret smile that only a handful of people could recognise. Jim felt privileged to be one of them.

“Good.” Jim’s eyes flickered open again. “I promise you, Spock. I’ll take care of myself for you. I might need your help sometimes, but I’ll do it.”

“I am glad. I apologise for my behaviour today. It was unfair of me – I wasn’t aware of your efforts. I will endeavour to be more supportive.”

“More?” He laughed. “I don’t think that’s possible, Spock. But thank you. I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come.


	3. Peace

Jim woke instantly, his eyes snapping open and the images in his head of Tarsus slipping away rapidly, replaced by his senses discovering he was in bed, on the Enterprise, quite safe. Only he felt cold to the very core of him, and sick too. He remembered eating a burger for dinner, despite Bones’ protests, but he regretted it now. _Fucking hell._ He focused on his breathing, willing away the panic and nausea, but unable to warm up his insides. He’d not always felt cold on Tarsus. A lot of the time had been spent running and hunting, too hot and too thirsty. But some of the time had been spent freezing cold, hiding, unable to do anything but shiver and pray for death. It was nothing like the sort of cold he’d felt as a child, when nothing had warmed him but a hot bath tended lovingly by his grandmother. This was the sort of cold that made him think his bones were splitting and splintering beneath his skin.

He struggled to sit up and around the partition, he saw Spock meditating. His lover was ethereal in the darkness, pale green skin almost incandescent. It would be cruel to interrupt him, but Jim couldn’t stay in bed. If he got up to shower, he’d disturb Spock just as much as just going to talk to him. Or not talk. Either way. He slipped out of bed, pausing momentarily to fight a wave of nausea, and then he padded over to Spock. Before his lover could do so much as look around, Jim climbed onto the floor behind him, wrapped his arms around his waist and rested his head against his bare back.

Spock was so hot. He was consistently boiling and Jim loved it. But Spock warmed him from the inside out with the depth of his emotions for Jim, anyway. So Jim clung tighter to him for a moment.

“Jim?”

“M’cold.”

A beat passed. “Your temperature seems perfectly within the –“

“Still cold, Spock. Had a bad dream.”

Spock didn’t reply, but turned awkwardly in Jim’s arms to face him, and then hugged him properly, not questioning him. He rarely did. Only held Jim until he either fell back to sleep, or began to speak about it of his own accord. Jim wasn’t sure what he wanted tonight, other than to just be near Spock. That’s all Spock ever wanted, the few times he’d had nightmares himself. Apparently, Vulcans didn’t dream at all, but Spock did. It had taken him a while to admit it to Jim, but he did appreciate being near a loved one upon waking.

“Do you think you might return to sleep?” Spock asked after a while, when the small circles he’d traced on Jim’s back didn’t feel quite real anymore.

“No.”

Spock pulled away, forcing Jim to sit up and support himself. “I will acquire you tea and breakfast, then.” Even the mention of food made Jim’s throat tighten, and he shook his head resolutely. If that didn’t tell Spock the subject of his nightmare, little could. Of course, Spock’s eyes flashed with recognition instantly. “Tea, Jim.”

Tea he couldn’t turn down – it might even help with the sickness in the pit of his stomach, climbing his throat again like growing vines. He allowed Spock to help him off the floor, suddenly baffled to how he’d even made it out of bed in the first place he felt so weak, and back into bed. Spock raised the lights a fraction, lifting the room from darkness finally, but not enough to blind them. Jim watched the shadowy figure of his lover procuring tea for them both, breathing carefully. In, _two three_ , out, _two, three_.

Spock bustled around the bed for a moment, placing down the tea on his bedside table before sliding under the covers, sitting as close to Jim as he could manage. Jim settled close and rested his head against Spock’s collarbone. He liked being tucked at Spock’s side, like he belonged there. He fit there, perfectly, like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

“Sit up, Jim.” Spock instructed softly, nudging him until he began to support himself a little more. Then he found a cup of hot tea in his hands and a plate of biscuits balanced on his lap. Clearly Spock hadn’t given up on the idea of getting Jim to eat, then. He sipped his tea instead, resting his head against the headboard tiredly.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your meditation.” He said, when the hot sweet liquid had started to aid Spock’s efforts to warm him up.

“It is of little consequence. I have slept and meditated adequately recently. Tonight was merely a motion of habit. You take precedent above habit, Jim.”

“Charmer.” Jim sighed, contentedly. “You know, that wasn’t even an exceptionally bad dream. It was Tarsus, but it wasn’t even a specific memory. It was more like the feeling of Tarsus; like I needed to run and fight and do anything to survive. I don’t know, it was weird.”

“You are quite safe now. Though you should eat.” Spock said pointedly, and Jim reluctantly picked up a biscuit and nibbled the corner. “Thank you. This must be recorded in your sleep tracking, also, for Leonard.”

“ _Leonard_? You two are bosom buddies now.” Not that he minded, and not that they’d stopped bickering with each other anyway. If they wanted to bond over a mutual desire to keep Jim from dying prematurely, who was he to complain. He snapped his biscuit in half and observed the smaller portion. That was better. He snapped it again and ate one half.

“There is no need to insult my tastes, Jim.” Spock said blandly, but the humour was evident.

“Hey! We clearly have the same good choice in friends.” He laughed. “Yes, _well_ , my point was that I guess that sort of dream is just coming from talking about it more. Thinking more deeply about everything – rather than just being scared, and scared of how scared it still makes me, you know?”

“I believe so.” Spock’s voice was quiet again, thoughtful, and Jim continued to eat his biscuit. It felt claggy in his mouth, at first, but the tea helped and he didn’t necessarily feel awful anymore. He had certainly warmed up, for one, and he was sort of proud that he hadn’t thrown up or broken down.

“I feel the same way in regards to your… incident.” Still, even now, Spock avoided saying death. It was fair enough, Jim thought, because he was alive. It seemed wrong to call it a death. But the fact remained that he had died and they had all lived through it, bizarre as it was to say.

“You were scared?”

“In a sense.” Spock admitted slowly. “During… I was scared. Afterwards, my rage was unlike anything I have experienced before or since. The fear returned only as we awaited your return to consciousness.” Jim moved the plat of biscuits to his bedside table. He’d rather Spock move them further away, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t. “It is illogical, given the profession we have both sought, but I fear another situation in which I will be so helpless to the outcome. Especially where you are concerned Jim.”

“I know.” Jim moved both of their cups away and resumed his previous position at Spock’s side, winding his arms around his lover’s waist and holding him tightly. “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”

“An interesting quote.”

“Applicable here, don’t you think?” Jim kissed Spock’s jawbone softly. “We’re explorers after all, mister Spock. As long as we have each other, as long as I have this at the end of the day, I can face anything.”

* * *

Jim didn’t want to know who taught Spock to kiss. He wanted to say he didn’t especially care, but honestly he did - he just couldn’t decide if he wanted to shake that person’s hand or wail helplessly in their face for giving Spock such a terrible weapon against him. Because, fuck, Spock could kiss. Spock kissed so that Jim’s knees actually felt weak and he felt like some cliché character in one of his old books. He’d feel insecure about that, if he didn’t know exactly how good at kissing he was too. He could feel the effect he was having on Spock; the unmistakable hardness pressing against him as Spock continued to snog him fucking senseless.

“I know what you’re doing, Spock.” Jim said, breathlessly, when Spock relented for a moment. Spock looked at him innocently and then resumed his previous activities, his lips dragging across Jim’s cheek and then to his neck. Whilst Jim _did_ know what Spock was doing, that didn’t mean he was in any sort of position to stop him, and his head fell back to allow Spock better access to his throat. He grinned lazily, when Spock placed a particularly wet kiss above his collarbone; his lover had claimed his spot, it seemed. Jim fucking loved it. Not just the upcoming hickey, which was a little adolescent even by his standards, but the being claimed part. He’d always fought for a reputation away from his father’s, particularly in Starfleet, but aside from the ‘Kirk’ legacy, no-one had ever really wanted him. Not until Bones, anyway. The first time Bones had confirmed they were friends, they’d been in a barfight. Bones had declared Jim was _his_ friend, and Jim had almost cried. ‘ _You’re my friend, Jim, and I’ll be damned if I sit here and watch you get pummelled to the dirt.’_ Then, of course, Bones had added. ‘ _But I don’t wanna get pummelled to the dirt either, so keep your fucking mouth shut next time’._ Jim never had done, but Bones had never retracted his friendship.

Of course, Spock claiming Jim was completely different. Spock staked his claim a thousand other ways than words. He did it in meaningful looks, in making sure Jim looked after himself, in knowing his favourite books and coffees and constellations, in all the universe. He also did it in mind-blowing kisses and mottled skin from a reluctant-to-depart mouth, and discreetly touching fingers on any planet with a pretty sunset. Jim didn’t mind in the slightest. He gave himself willingly, and he knew he had all of Spock in return as well. On the nights when Spock couldn’t settle himself enough to meditate, and simply needed Jim to stroke his hair until he fell asleep. When Spock was too engrossed in an experiment to remember to sleep or drink or eat, because Vulcans don’t need to as often as humans, but he’d always take a break if Jim arrived with tea or soup. They worked, in every way.

The com buzzed and Jim felt Spock’s head move against his fractionally, either relieved or frustrated. Jim quite understood. The interruption prevented them from carrying on with something that would push back their paperwork even more than the simple meal they had planned. But frustration, yes, because _fuck_ if he wouldn’t rather get fucked by Spock than eat or do paperwork.

“It’s time, then.” Jim said humorously, adjusting his collar again from where Spock had tugged it down, trying to cover up the fresh mark there. Not that it would matter soon, when his shirt was off and he was sweating like a pig.

For his part, Spock just inhaled carefully and straightened his hair out. Jim moved to the com and responded promptly, trying not to sound breathless still. “Kirk here.”

“Medbay here, Captain.” Chapel’s voice came through the com, amused already. “Doctor McCoy is ready for you.” Jim almost shuddered. It was time for his quarterly physical. It had been for about two months, but it was becoming something of a necessity now.

“On my way, Nurse Chapel.” He replied, then looked to Spock helplessly. “He’s going to tell me off for this you know.” He gestured vaguely to his neck and the littering of marks there. “ _Me_ , not you.” Spock continued to look at him innocently. “I _knew_ that’s why you were doing it. Okay, I’m going. Wish me luck.”

“You are in perfect physical health, Jim, therefore the concept of luck is not required here.”

“Easy for you to say.” Jim kissed his cheek softly, tracing his fingers down his neck teasingly. “That being said, if you _don’t_ wish me luck and then Bones absolutely wrecks me, you have absolutely zero chance of getting lucky yourself tonight.” With that, he turned to the door and made to leave.

“Good luck, Jim.” Spock said after him, relenting with considerable ease, before the doors closed, and Jim grinned brilliantly to the empty corridor.


End file.
